Bring Me That Horizon
by ChaoticEmbrace
Summary: On the high seas she made her living, pillaging and laying waste to all who crossed her path. That is, of course until Mallory "Peewee" Ashford crosses paths with Connor and finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for. Rated T for language and violence.
1. The Coming Storm

**_AUTHORS NOTE: I do not own Assassins Creed or any of the characters in it they belong to Ubisoft, save for my OC. Please enjoy._**

The seas were restless today. The waves clashed with the iron-reinforced frame in vicious roars and the wind rattled the sails like rumbles of thunder. Yes, today was a good day – a perfect day – for Calypso at least. She was the fastest vessel since the Ghost of the Seas, the Aquila, had become a broken heap in some godforsaken port. Some, such as her captain, would go so far as to say she would have topped the Aquila had the old girl still been sea worthy. When the conditions worsened and brought other ships to their knees, the black flag, baring Calypso's insignia would rustled with anticipation, greeting the storm with open arms.

As did her captain. "Today is our day, lads. I feel it in the air, I do. Simian, tell me you have something!" Two weeks they'd been at sea. Waiting. Watching. Hunting the merchant ships as they ventured to their ports. It kept the crew on their toes, especially when they were faced with a good chase and fight as they boarded.

But all fun came to an end, and after these long two weeks without a single ship to tail, the aquamarine waters were beginning to lose their appeal, as were the cloudless blue skies and the gulls that soiled the ships deck. Then again, they'd lacked appeal to begin with. It had left the captain, and crew, itching for something exciting to happen. And today _had _to be the day.

Up in the crow's nest, Simian, a short lanky fellow with a reputation for deft fingers, anxiously shifted at his post. His squinted eyes peered off into the distance for anything that broke the flat line of the grey morning horizon. "Nothing yet, Cap'n! Just the brewin's of a storm!"

First Mate, Ian Bronson, leaned over from the wheel and whispered to the Captain. "Seems while we've a stroke of good luck, bad luck follows. We should turn in while the men haven't drawn sword."

Damn it all! While the gods of the sea had turned favour to Calypso and her crew, Lady Luck seemed to frown upon them. "As much as I would like to deny your claim. It would appear you are right." There was not much else they could do. With food supplies running low and the men bickering over the smallest things like sleeping spaces and who stole who's scrub brush, there was only so much longer they could last. The Captain pushed off the railing with a grumble. "Fine. Set a course for the nearest port. Boston, if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye, Captain."

And then, it happened. Simian shouted from the nest and pointed starboard. "Ship inbound! Ship inbound!"

Everyone rushed to the edge of the ship, eager commotion filled the air as they confirmed Simian's sighting. Two merchant ships from what the Captain could see through the spyglass, accompanied by a single naval vessel.

A wide grin crossed the Captain's face as a playful smack to the First Mate's chest was made. "Did I not say today was our day, Master Bronson? They've made it to easy for us. Gentlemen!" Master Bronson chuckled, all too glad that their waiting had finally paid off. The crewmen turned to their leader, eyes sparking with a need to fight. "Our patience has once more paid off! We've guests to greet, so let us give them a fitting welcome!"

The crew roared with life renewed, chanting and stabbing their blades into the billowing air.

"Ready the cannon's, catch the wind and guide our friends to the storm. And let our colours fly!" The Captain called out. Less than a second later, the crew rushed to their posts, their hurried footsteps mimicked the rumbling thunder from the darkening clouds above.

The flag of Calypso took to the skies, the skeleton of a mermaid with the waves of the ocean at her back and trident held upward._ Let these men sing tales of the Queen of the Sea. Calypso and her Siren. Let them tremble as the cannons cripple them._

As the chase began and the haunting booms of cannon fire echoed through the air, the storm overhead brought the first droplets of rain. Rain of the skies. And rain of blood.


	2. Following Leads

**_AUTHORS NOTE: I do not own Assassins Creed or any of the characters in it they belong to Ubisoft, save for my OC. Also, thank you for the views. Please enjoy._**

Connor had paid little attention to the goings on of the shipping routes. He was usually to busy following the Templar Order to really take notice of much else. It was rarely ever that they were faced with trouble on the naval trade route, other than the occasional storm. But nothing of major issue. At least, that was what he thought until he heard news of a number of attacks being made between Boston and Davenport.

On the first week, only one of his ships was sent out with rations and building supplies on board. He'd thought nothing of it at first, just another storm on the high seas. But it became too much of a coincidence when he sent out a second and found they hadn't returned, yet again.

It was as he was readying to board the Aquila that he heard of a possible lead.

"Did you hear? Another lot of ships have been attacked. No survivors." He overheard a pair of men gossiping as they went about filling large barrels and creates full with exotic wines, fruit and fresh fish.

Both were old workers, their hair brittle with age and fading to grey. One, who stood upright with a kink in his neck as he fidgeted with the barrel lids, was nothing more than skin and bones with a fuzzy beard and scruffy dressage with heavy darkened patches on their backs and under their arms from heated sweat. The second, knelt down on the filthy wooden docks on his grazed knees, was no better. He seemed to be showing even more prominent age lines and hollowing eyes than the other.

Connor moved closer to hear them better, pretending to inspect the fish for sale at one of the small kiosks set nearby within an earshot of the men. He tried his best to ignore the lingering stench of the drying fish and heavy odour that clung to the over sized man cleaving the fish heads off with a notable effort only feet away.

The older of the two huffed in disgrace. "Damn pirates, why aren't the redcoats dealing to them? They've a big enough armada to send those bastards to greet old Davy Jones!"

"It's not just some group of pirates though..." The first told him, his voice took an eerie tone as he ushered the other closer. "It's _her. _Calypso's black sails darken our waters."

The tension that built in the older man's face faded into white horror. He motioned his hand over his forehead and chest. "Mary, mother of God. What did we do to deserve her near our harbours?"

_Calypso._ It wasn't a name Connor had come across before, though these men seemed to know of it enough to fear it. He continued to listen in. "Ha, it's not as though her crew really need a reason. But one thing is certain, so long as she's here, none of us will be safe out there. Not when they plan on sending us on the usual route, we'll be like sheep to the slaughter."

"Oi! Shut it!" A guard roared at the men who flinched. "You're being paid to work not stand around and gossip like women." The men hustled with their work, their conversation seemingly over.

With little reason to hang around, Connor left the stands empty handed and returned to his ship and joined Mr Faulkner at the wheel. They left the harbour at a snail's pace with Connor peering back to the port where he could see the two men finally hauling their precious cargo onto their ship. The quiet between the pair as they sailed gave Connor an opportunity to ask. "What do you know of a ship called Calypso?"

His First Mate spluttered as he fought to contain the whiskey behind his lips. "Don't go saying that name out loud boy!" He hissed as he wiped his chin. "It's bad luck saying that name out loud. You'll bring her sails down on us talking so openly about her like that."

"I do not care, nor believe, in such theories of bad luck. Tell me what you know, Mr Faulkner." He said flatly. If this Calypso was in fact the reason for the disappearing trade ships and attacks on the open water, then something had to be done about it.

"A dreaded pirate ship on par with our Aquila for speed and under the ownership of one Barnabas Finch." Mr Faulkner grumbled. Connor couldn't decide whether his voice was filled with envy or just pure malice. "He fancies himself a Pirate Lord of sorts, which in a way he is. On those black sails, Finch earned his fame from murdering and thievery – the lowest of the low. Rumour has it, he even deals in slavery from the prisoners he takes."

"A Slaver?" That was enough for Connor. He knew this man had to be stopped.

"What is this sudden interest, if you don't mind me asking?"

Connor turned the wheel to port, the heavy mast of the sail groaned wearily as it followed his direction and veered to the left. "I believe that this Barnabas Finch is behind the growing attacks on merchant vessels. I intend to make his recent ventures his last."

The former Captain of the Aquila threw his hands in the air in hysterics. "This is the job of a mad man! That lot have sailed for more than thirty years unmatched and you want to bring a fight to them? We don't even have a heading!"

"We do not need one. A set of ships will be leaving soon. We will follow from a distance." Connor said, recalling what he had overheard the two men from the docks speaking about. Yes, it seemed cruel to use them as bait, but it could possibly have been the only lead they had to catch this illusive pirate ship. His First Mate rolled his eyes and grumbled unhappily. "Have faith Mr Faulkner, we are more than prepared and trained for such things."

There was a short pause from the sailor that lingered uncomfortably before he managed an "Aye, sir." Connor's words of minor support meant little to Mr Faulkner who Connor assumed, from the haunting darkness in his eyes, knew all too well the enemy they may very well face.


	3. All Hands on Deck

**_AUTHORS NOTE: I do not own Assassins Creed or any of the characters in it they belong to Ubisoft, save for my OC. Also, thank you for the views. It means a lot that people would take the time to read my work. It is encouraging. Please enjoy._**

The route the merchants had chosen was a drawn out and tiring one. It may have been one of the more common courses to travel, but there was surely no need for this tedious lack of movement. Was this a tactical play? Were they hoping to somehow skirt around the pirates attacks on the swifter vessels and pray that they would remained unnoticed from the dawdling? Connor assumed that was the reason behind it. A poor reason.

If these pirates were as bad as he had been led to believe, it would not matter the speed or the company each ship kept. Nothing would see them through unscathed if targeted.

Whatever the case may have been, Connor was growing increasingly bored of the same deep shade of blue that coloured these endless waters, which he tried to convince himself, only seemed darker and more depressing thanks to the dark storm clouds stretching their hazy tendrils further across the sky. Even the few deserted islands that dotted the ocean seemed lonelier and more secluded despite being clustered together.

He watched his men trudge along the decks below whose enthusiastic manner mirrored that of Connor's at this point. Over the past week, he had heard many of them commenting on confronting the Calypso and Captain Finch. Many sounded the same unnerved anticipation amongst each other, sharing tales they had heard over the years and ghost stories of how the Calypso had gained her infamy. Perhaps it had been those ghost stories that had made this journey so much more horrid.

"Cap'n," Mr Faulkner quickly climbed the steps to the quarterdeck to join Connor, the sudden call for his attention sprung a small amount of energy back into the somewhat dazed Captain. "I'm not one for giving in, but we've been out her for days now and nothing to show for it. We missed the pirates, it seems."

He was right. By now, despite the lack of progress, they would have been found out and attacked. There was nothing, simply the unending stretch of blue that isolated them from the rest of the world.

Were Connor able to maintain the Aquila by himself or stowed away on the merchant vessel, he might have continued his search. But there were more pressing matters he had to attend to and no doubt the British would eventually confront these villains.

"I fear you are right, Mr Faulkner. However, I would still see them through for a few more miles." Connor sighed. While he was relieved this hadn't turned into a fire fight, he was consumed by frustration that this had, more or less, been for nothing. "Have the men bring her to full sail and ensure the way forward is clear. I will return once I have finished with some personal business."

"Very well, Captain." His First Mate was quick to take command, putting his old Captaining days to use once again. "Alright lads, look lively. I want full sail and eyes peeled! We'll be home before long!" At his word, the men scuttled about to bring the sails down.

It felt as though hours had slipped by where Connor was shut away in his cabin. Nobody disturbed him, meaning there had been no sign of trouble. The time separated from his crew was spent studying the scrap leather maps of Kidd's treasure and scrawling down Connor's thoughts in the journal he had started at Achilles behest.

To start with the journal had meant little to him. It made little sense to write his thoughts down for others to read. What did they care what Connor thought? He was nothing more than a shadow in the crowd. An unseen blade ready to strike. But as time pressed on, he understood why it was requested of him. An Assassin's life was a lonely one and somehow, writing what he thought personally down into this leather bound journal, made it less so. He found it also helped to keep him sane. In a world where killing was all around him and all he could see was the corruption of the Templars and what came of it, to put it into words and mull over them, gave the Assassin a sense of peace. A way to express what he felt as this journey progressed.

Connor dabbed his quill into the murky black inkpot and continued to write.

_…The tales they share about this pirate are worrying to say the least. Many speak of Finch as if he were lingering over their shoulder._

_It is troubling._

_I have learnt more about this enemy and the atrocities he has taken part in. Hundreds of innocent people died in his wake, their bodies displayed and disfigured – a trademark of his, so I am told. Each victim had been branded with a burn to the inside of their wrist in the shape of a small bird perched on crossing bones._

_Many fear his wrath. The men say he once sailed the seas seeking justice for generations of his family being hunted down and killed. Over time, he grew mad with power and believed himself above the rule of any King or Governor. Instead, Finch became the Lord of the Seas. The Judge, Jury and Executioner of all who crossed his path._

_I do not see him as such. He is nothing more than an opportunist and takes no shame in his actions of murder, rape and slavery._

_This man is a monster and mus—_

"CANNON FIRE!" A voice shrieked.

Too late.

The impact shook the cabin like an earthquake. Unprepared, Connor lurched forward, scribbling over his unfinished entry. The shelves were emptied of their books and vases shattered as a second and third shot hit.

Connor scrambled to his feet and burst through the doors to the main deck where he was confronted with utter chaos. The iron frames had done little to guard against the sudden assault shown by the bodies strewn at his feet and the shattered slates of frame littering the area.

His men scattered from their posts in disarray, trying to stay clear of the fire. "Brace men, brace!" He heard Mr Faulkner bark from the wheel. A shot flew through the air, the heavy fire sounded like thunder from above, narrowly missing the First Mate who pressed against the wheel to avoid being hit. "Sweet mother of god! Cap'n! We're under attack!" he shouted.

Connor joined him on the quarter deck, checking over his shoulder to where a Galleon closed in on their position. A ship with dark sails. "I see that, Mr Faulkner!" Connor relieved his crewmate from command and swung the wheel to the left, calling for half sails so they could twist around completely. He would not run from the fight presented. "Where did they come from?! Who is attacking?!"

"The islands, Cap'n! We figured it to be a wreck caught on the rocks as we passed!" The older man shouted. He pulled his spyglass from his coat and peered toward the enemy. "They were waiting for us!"

How predictable. Connor should have known something like this would happen. It was a clever tactic. To wait so long out at sea, to wait for the prey to feel at ease before launching an attack. _Clever._

"Have the men prepare for battle!" He ordered. "I want the long shots on standby and waiting for my signal!" Connor then called for full sail, charging forward.

"Aye! Ready the guns! We meet the enemy head on!"

One of his men leaned over the side. He raised a trembling hand in the air. His whole body trembled as he struggled to let words pass from his lips. Some of the men stopped to follow his gaze, eventually they shared his terrified appearance and stepped away from the railing. "It's her! It's Calypso!"


End file.
